


Got No Good Plans, but a Good Idea

by cassiem



Category: Block B
Genre: M/M, Rich CEO AU, that's an au now ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 17:19:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6204043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiem/pseuds/cassiem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jihoon assumes that Jiho's dinner – filled with other CEOs and businessmen just like him – is going to be boring as hell, until he finds he's sitting across from the enigmatic Taeil, and can't stop staring at him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got No Good Plans, but a Good Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday Muna!

_Don't wanna love you no more_   
_Don't wanna love you less_   
_I wanna be crushed by your sweet caress_   
_What's the fuckin' difference, we all gonna die_   
_You gonna do something killer?_   
_C'mon give it a try_   
_You’ve Got a Killer Scene There, Man… - Queens of the Stone Age_

 

 

“Jihoon! So glad you could come!” Jiho cries, running down the grandiose front steps of his house to wrap his arms around Jihoon in a bear hug so fierce he feels himself being lifted off the ground.

“Stop it, Jiho.” Jihoon laughs, but he hugs his old friend back gladly, unable to stop himself smiling.

The times where they’re both able to see each other have been few and far between lately; with the both of them running their companies, it’s hard to see each other. Not many of Jihoon’s friendships from high school have reached this far, into his mid-twenties; Jiho is an anomaly, always has been. Whenever they get an opportunity to catch up they always leap at it and when the invitation for this dinner had arrived in Jihoon’s mailbox he had jumped at it, even if it meant sitting around with a bunch of fellow, older CEOs bound to comment on his age and inexperience, leaving him to smile broadly, uncomfortable. That’s what all these dinners are like.

“I hope to hell this isn’t going to be boring, Jiho.” He remarks to his old friend as they head inside, Jihoon handing his coat to a butler and adjusting his suit. “I plan to get monumentally drunk if that’s the case.”

Jiho winks at him as he leads him through the parlour into the enormous dining room. “Please, Jihoon. You know me better than that. Everyone here is perfectly interesting. Besides…” He looks Jihoon up and down and tilts his head to the side. “It’s good for you to have interaction with other people once in awhile, you know. How often do you leave your office?”

“Fuck off.” Jihoon grins, surveying the table.

As with everything Jiho does, this dinner is completely over the top: the table is laid out with the best silver, cutlery placed just so, napkins folded elegantly. On top of each plate is a little card with the name of a guest on it; he picks the nearest one up between his forefinger and thumb and examines it.

“Do you even know what ‘low-key’ means?” He asks as Jiho smacks him on the hand, snatching the name card and placing it back in its rightful spot.

“It’s not in my vocabulary, no.” Jiho shoots back over his shoulder as he leads Jihoon to his spot, situated in the middle of the long table.

As Jihoon sits down, he sneaks a glance at the name cards next to him, but doesn’t recognise any of the names. Oh, well. There will no doubt be copious amounts of expensive wine served, so if his dining companions are dull he can just get drunk – and no doubt they will be, despite Jiho’s assurances otherwise.

He watches quietly, nursing a glass of water, as other guests begin to arrive. To his surprise, they don’t all seem to be as ancient as he was expecting; there are a few men quite a lot older, who Jiho bows very low to, but the majority seem to be in their thirties. Perhaps this dinner won’t be so bad after all, he muses – although he is still skeptical.

He greets the people sitting next to them, smiling inside as they take in his obvious youth and wealth seemingly in contrast to each other; especially as Jiho introduces him as the CEO of his company, which has quite the reputation these days. They start talking about business, which doesn’t surprise him – get a room full of businessmen and they will talk about nothing but work. He tunes out of the conversation and cranes his head to look at Jiho, sitting at the head of the table, staring at him with a smirk on his face.

Jihoon turns back to face his plate and blinks. The person sitting across from him has taken their seat, and he finds himself staring. The man is gorgeous in an ethereal kind of way, and looks to be around his age, too; he takes Jihoon’s breath away and he looks away quickly, down at his plate. He fingers the little piece of cardboard, running his fingers over the letters of his name in an attempt to ground himself. It’s not often that strangers have this effect on him and he doesn’t know if he likes it.

At the head of the table, Jiho stands up and clanks a fork against a glass, grabbing everyone’s attention. As the man turns to look at him, Jihoon allows himself the luxury of glancing at him out of the corner of his eye; his jawline casts a sharp shadow, accentuating his profile, and Jihoon breathes out shakily.

“I invited everyone here for good food, good wine and good conversation, so please, for the love of God, try not to be too boring.” Jiho begins, his eyes finding Jihoon’s, winking at him playfully. “But most importantly, enjoy! We’re all friends here!”

Everyone cheers, and Jiho grins and throws back his shot of soju in one gulp, bowing his head slightly as he sits down. Conversation resumes and Jihoon allows himself to be drawn into it, listening to the man to his right talk about the stock market and its performance in the last quarter, trying to stop himself from looking at the man out of his periphery.

When a waiter arrives with a bottle of Pinot, he looks away and watches the liquid pour into his glass, dark and crimson. He swirls the liquid carefully and takes a sip, letting the taste wash over his tastebuds; as much as Jiho can be infuriating sometimes, he really does have a good taste in wine and he nods to the waiter, allowing his glass to be filled completely. As he looks up, glass in hand, he catches the man’s eye.

Never before has someone piqued Jihoon’s interest like this, but he can’t pull his gaze away from the man, who has the darkest brown eyes he’s ever seen. After a long moment, the stranger smiles and raises his glass to Jihoon wordlessly; as if in a daze he mimics the movement, taking a long swallow of his wine, not taking his eyes off the man, somehow unable to.

The other man breaks the gaze first, turning to the woman to his left and saying something; she laughs, covering her mouth behind her hand, and Jihoon watches curiously. Glancing down at the man’s plate, he can see the little piece of cardboard, just barely, and mouths the characters to himself. _Lee Taeil_.

Not long after that the entrée is served, and Jihoon allows himself the luxury of losing himself in the conversation around him; his companions aren’t so bad at all, and as the wine flows he finds himself opening up a little, smiling and laughing more. He can’t stop himself from glancing at Taeil out of the corner of his eyes every so often, though, and observes the way he speaks to others around him. Snippets of their conversation flow over to him sometimes, and Taeil’s high, melodious voice is lovely to listen to.

Finishing off his wine in one swallow, Jihoon reaches for the salt, still in conversation with the man to his left; he feels someone’s fingers brush his and drops the salt shaker, snapping his head around as he sees Taeil’s hand outstretched, a blush rising on his cheeks. Jihoon feels a similar blush echoing up his own neck and he hurriedly scoops up the salt shaker and shoves it into Taeil’s hands wordlessly, refusing to acknowledge the fact that a secret thrill goes through him where their fingers touch. _It’s just the wine_ , he thinks to himself, knowing it’s a lie and clinging to it anyhow.

As Taeil hands him the salt shaker after he is finished with it, the sleeve of his shirt rides up and Jihoon sees flashes of colour, in such stark contrast to the white of his shirt that they stand out, drawing the eye. He opens his mouth to say something – the tattoos looked beautiful and were so distinct – but Taeil is absorbed in conversation already.

The night continues, and every so often their glances will meet across the table and time will seem to slow. The room falls away, the conversations reverbing pointlessly behind them, disappearing into nothingness, Taeil’s gaze the only thing mattering. Perhaps it’s silly to assume so much of a stranger, but Jihoon _knows_ Taeil feels it too – he must, or else why would he keep looking at Jihoon over and over again?

As the main course is served, they stare at each other for a long, long moment. Taeil’s gaze is heavy, weighty, so much so that Jihoon longs to feel it brush his skin. Although there are no words exchanged it doesn’t matter, because Taeil’s eyes say so much; it’s incredibly sensual and erotic, and Jihoon soon finds his fists clenching on his thighs, his mouth watering, wanting to do with his body to Taeil what his eyes are saying.

They continue like that for a while. Jihoon talks to the others around him and gets progressively more and more drunk, and his glances at Taeil start to be more and more blatant. He’s resting his chin on his hand, his elbows on the table – they’re way past table manners now, considering Jiho’s shirt is unbuttoned nearly all the way and his hair is mussed – when Taeil turns to him and his lips quirk up in a smile.

“Lee Taeil.” He says, extending his hand across the table for Jihoon to shake. “I don’t believe we were ever introduced.”

“No, I don’t think we were.” Jihoon murmurs, sliding his hand into Taeil’s. “Pyo Jihoon.”

“I’ve heard quite a lot about you.” Taeil purrs, raising his eyebrows. “Jiho said you’re the CEO of –”

Jihoon smiles, cutting him off – he’s heard quite enough about his job tonight. “Yes, I am. And what do you do?”

Taeil opens his mouth to reply, but they’re cut off by a waiter, leaning over to take their plates, and the conversation moves on. Jihoon tries to focus on the others – really, he does – but he just cannot stop himself from looking at Taeil every so often, the man who is such an enigma, who is making his heart race and all the blood rush to his cock.

By the time dessert is served, he just can’t stand it anymore. He feels all tingly and he wants nothing more than to throw Taeil up against a wall somewhere and fuck him, and he’s never ever felt like this about a stranger before; never has he lost himself like this. Standing up, he apologises to his companions and heads for the bathroom.

The moment he’s out of the room it’s like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he leans against the wall, breathing heavily. What the hell is _happening_ to him? How can he have so much chemistry with a man who he’s spoken barely five words to? They know nothing about each other and yet – and yet there was _something_ in the way Taeil looked at him that has him so off-balance.

Staggering slightly – Christ, he’s had more to drink than he realised, and it’s all hitting him at once – he makes his way to the bathroom, where he turns on the cold tap and splashes water on his face, gasping as it sobers him up a little. What he really should do right now is make some excuse to Jiho and leave. He’s playing with fire here, and if word ever gets out that the CEO of one of Korea’s biggest companies spent all night eye-fucking a handsome stranger at an important dinner, he would be in big trouble indeed.

  
Jihoon stares at his reflection in the mirror and sighs. That’s what he should do, but of course he won’t – Taeil is too captivating, too hypnotising for that. There’s just… _something_ in his eyes that has bewitched him, some unspoken promise that Jihoon wants to stick around for.

The door bangs behind him and he jumps in shock, his face still dripping with water. He turns, expecting Jiho, but it’s Taeil standing there and the world goes still.

They stare at each other for a long moment and perhaps it’s the alcohol but Jihoon feels completely unsteady, his head spinning. Taeil’s eyes are dark and unreadable (unlike before, where he was so transparent with his desires) that he is too scared to move lest he breaks the fragile peace between them.

As it turns out Taeil is the first to move, crossing the room in two strides and pushing Jihoon back against the mirror, pulling his head down so their lips meet in a fierce kiss that’s all lips and teeth and tongue, but it’s what they’ve both been waiting for all night and it's  _such_ a relief.

Taeil’s hands make quick work of his shirt, yanking it out from his pants and pulling it open; buttons go skittering across the tiles and perhaps Jihoon should care because the damn shirt was so expensive but he doesn’t, all he cares about is the way Taeil’s hands feel, so hot and hard on his belly, on his chest.

He moans into the air of the bathroom, his hands falling on the counter to steady himself as Taeil bites his way down his neck and shoulder, undoing his belt and throwing it over his shoulder. He wants nothing more than for Taeil to touch him and when he does, his hand wrapping around Jihoon’s cock and giving it a hesitant tug, he bites his lip until he tastes blood. He feels Taeil’s eyes on him again and when he looks up the other man’s face is a mask of barely concealed lust; there’s nothing but the two of them right here, right now, sweaty and hot and stripping each other of clothes quickly.

In a moment he’s helped Taeil from his shirt and shoves his hand down the front of his pants, mirroring Taeil’s movements on his own cock as he looks down. Tattoos cover Taeil’s arms and chest, so colourful under the weak lighting of the bathroom that they begin to swim in front of his eyes. He’s never been this aroused in his life so he leans down to kiss Taeil again, desperate to communicate this, not trusting his words.

“Turn around.” Taeil mutters, and Jihoon does what he’s told, placing his hands on the counter as he bends over.

With no warning Taeil slips a finger inside him, moving fast and hard, exploring; Jihoon throws his head back and hisses at the feeling. _This_ is what all their glances and looks and stares have been building towards all through the night; he feels like he’s going to fucking _explode_ if he doesn’t have Taeil’s cock inside him and soon, so he wriggles backwards, fucking himself on Taeil’s fingers blatantly, not caring that he barely _knows_ this man, his lust burning from the inside out.

He hears Taeil spit on his fingers and push another inside; he groans, impatient. Taeil is just drawing this out now, he must be _loving_ the way Jihoon looks, bent over for him. He tries to tell him to hurry up, but the words won’t come out; all he can manage is breathy moans that turn into sighs as Taeil crooks his fingers upward, making him arch his back.

And then Taeil is pushing his cock inside with a grunt, his hand tangling in Jihoon’s hair, yanking his head back as he slides into Jihoon’s ass, the both of them panting. Jihoon’s breath fogs on the mirror as Taeil starts fucking him, his hand dimpling on Jihoon’s hips as he digs his nails in, thrusting hard and fast.

There’s still no words between the either of them but that’s alright, there’s nothing to say; they’ve already fucked each other hundreds of times through their long, heavy glances. Jihoon has never _felt_ like this before, not ever, so turned on he can barely breathe as Taeil fucks him furiously, his head pressing up against the mirror so he can look over his shoulder and see Taeil, his eyes closed, mouth falling open. As he watches Taeil fuck him, a bead of sweat rolls down Taeil’s shoulder, down his chest; it mesmerizes him and he closes his eyes, unable to look anymore.

As his orgasm builds, heat thrumming its way down his spine as Taeil’s thrusts get more and more ragged and forceful, he bites his lip, gripping onto the counter as hard as he can. Some small part of him wonders how he got here, being fucked by a stranger in Jiho’s bathroom, but most of him just doesn’t care... especially when it feels as good as this, especially when Taeil drags his nails down his back and slaps his ass crudely, that spike of pain forcing him over the edge –

He comes with a cry but Taeil doesn’t stop or give a reprieve, just keeps thrusting as he comes all over the sink, his orgasm rocking violently through him. Hours’ worth of sexual frustration pours out of him and he feels like he’s fucking _flying_ , nothing has ever made him feel like this before, so – so elated and so full of pleasure. A few moments later Taeil comes, too, his nails breaking the skin on Jihoon’s hips as he holds on, trembling.

For a moment they stay like that, not moving. Jihoon feels electric, like his skin is buzzing all over. His sweat begins to cool as he leans heavily on the mirror, their breathing slowly coming back to normal.

Abruptly, Taeil slips out of him and gets dressed hurriedly, his expression unreadable. Slowly Jihoon pulls up his pants, too, and scoops his shirt off the floor, examining it carefully. Thankfully only a few buttons are missing and Jiho’s so drunk that he won’t even know the difference, as long as he doesn’t look closely.

As he finishes doing up the last button, Taeil steps close to him and kisses him, his tongue tracing a line along Jihoon’s bottom lip, leaving his fingers clenching and his cock beginning to get hard again. Although he’s not entirely sure he could handle another round – the usual post-coital fatigue is setting in, and the alcohol isn’t helping.

Taeil steps back and smiles cheekily, holding out a business card between two fingers. Jihoon takes it warily and looks at it, but it just has his name and phone number, no other details; he runs his fingers over the numbers like they’re braille and he can memorise them by touch, still slightly stunned by the whole experience.

“Call me sometime.” Taeil murmurs, and with a wink he’s gone, the bathroom door swinging shut behind him, leaving Jihoon with nothing but the business card, half-moon nail marks on his hips and the ghost of Taeil’s touch all over his body.

“Maybe I will.” He mutters to no one, slipping the business card in his pocket and taking one last look in the mirror as he leaves, heading back to normalcy.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my friend Muna as a birthday present, although I originally got the idea from my _other_ friend Grace based off something that actually happened to _me_ (have you ever been eyefucked by a stranger in a bar? It's quite erotic) so, happy birthday Muna and thanks Grace for the spark of inspiration, I love you both. 
> 
> P.S. have you seen Jihoon's [rich](http://i.imgur.com/NKkcKcw.jpg) [CEO](http://i.imgur.com/RHjWVOY.png) looks? It's [mesmerising](http://i.imgur.com/95vhdjh.jpg).


End file.
